


rescue animals

by LeftHook



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Cats, Dogs, FDA warning for excessive coziness, Fluff, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Light Pining, M/M, Sweaters, subtitle: they’re all good dogs brent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-03 16:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17881643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftHook/pseuds/LeftHook
Summary: Look—Alex was just trying to do a good deed. Being trapped in close proximity with the vet, who is very tall, and calm, and assured, and always wearing sweaters that are all soft and worn at the elbows, and absolutelyoff limits: surely he doesn't deserve this.





	rescue animals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarusandtheson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusandtheson/gifts).



> for @icarusandtheson, whose callous sending of [this photo of Chris Jackson](http://onelefthook.tumblr.com/post/182994479694/well-folksproof-that-you-can-never-truly) sparked this utterly doofus fic.  
> I DONT  
> EVEN THINK GLASSES ARE HOT  
> and as always, big damn hearts to beta/bestie @moonjockey.
> 
> A content note: since it is a Vet!AU, there are ailing cats and dogs in this fic. We are all about happy endings in this house so everyone is fine in the end, but I want you to know in case that is an issue for you. <3
> 
> Also, there’s a lot of swearing in this fic. Let us proceed.

Laurens, the asshole, told him he had to take the cat to the vet. “Ok, ok, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Hamilton said, pulling on his shoes.

“No!” Laurens said, and even the connection from wherever the fuck hippity dippity yoga retreat in the wilderness could not hide the genuine fear in his voice. “Hams, come on, baby, Diogenes is a member of the family. He’s been there for me through the worst in my life.”

Hamilton eyed Diogenes, who was sharpening his claws on the couch. “He looks fucking fine to me.”

“Hamilton! _Please!_ He’s never barfed that much before, it could be something horrible and he could be gone in a _flash_ , and he’s my life outside my body, he’s got a piece of my soul carried inside him, he—”

“Fine, fine! Please stop telling me this bullshit they’re putting in your oat milk out there.” Hamilton checked his watch. “Where’s your damn vet.”

“Hammie! My man. The best roommate known to humankind. You always come through. Look it up on the fridge, there’s a magnet with the vet’s address on there. And you can give him some tuna to get him in the carrier, there’s some on top of the cabinet.”

“Oh fuck no, that shit smells like the fucking asshole of a cannery, Laurens, Jesus. I’ll get him in there, whatever. I’ll text you with whatever the vet says. Bye.”

“I love you!” Laurens shouted through the phone before the call disconnected. Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“Okay, fuckface, you don’t like me and I don’t like you,” he said to the cat. “And neither of us wants this, but it’s happening. So let’s get this over with.”

 

 ~~~~~

The yowling was audible from the street even before a young man burst through the front door, emanating sweat and a strong odor of fish, and releasing a stream of colorful swearing that was nonetheless only occasionally audible beneath the staggeringly loud, continuous yowling from the carrier in his arms.

The shouting and the noise was loud enough that Washington, writing a prescription, stuck his head around to the front desk. “Lacey,” he said. “What is going on out there?”

“This guy’s got a cat he says needs to be seen right away,” she said. Her flat, unimpressed tone carried her impression clearly.

He checked the schedule. “I can fit him in before the 10:00. Send him over to number three.”

The yowl moved through the hallways as Washington washed his hands and finished updating the chart for his last visit.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Washington,” he said, and put out his hand. “How can I help you today?”

Number three held a young man in a green t-shirt with his arms clamped around a large cat carrier. Much of his long dark hair had escaped a ponytail and stuck up around his face, which was twisted in a massive scowl. He did not let go of the carrier to shake Washington’s hand.

“Name’s Diogenes, and he barfed all over the goddamn carpet six or seven times this morning,” the man said. He had to half-shout, because the cat had not stopped screaming.

“I see,” Washington said, peering inside the carrier, where a large, handsome black and white cat hissed at him. “Vomiting can mean a lot of things, some more serious than others. We’ll get him sorted out, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying,” Diogenes said flatly.

Since the man had barged into his practice and demanded to be seen immediately, Washington let this go by without comment. “Okay, put him on the table here, please,” he said, turning to put on gloves.

Diogenes put the case down on the examining table, but kept his hand pressed on the door. The cat continued to yowl. “Look, I can let him out, but I’ll be fucked if I can get his ass anywhere. An-y-where,” he said.

Washington genuinely enjoyed the practice of veterinary medicine. Some days more than others. “That’s OK.”

“It took me twenty minutes to get the little shit in the carrier. If I open it, I guarantee nothing.”

“I assume you do want me to treat this cat?” Washington said, straightening to his full height, shoulders squared.

Diogenes scowled even more deeply. Washington waited him out until he sniffed and released his fingers from the door latch.

The cat bolted. Washington caught him neatly by the scruff of the neck. The yowling ceased immediately. “There you go,” he said soothingly to the cat. “I know, none of this is fair. Hold on for just a few more minutes, and I’ll help you feel better.”

The cat’s breathing was rapid and shallow, but not outside the parameters for a stressful experience like this. The color of his mucus membranes and his eyelids were good.

“The fuck,” the man breathed.

Washington glanced up. Diogenes was staring at the cat, jaw slack. “Are you all right?”

“No, I just, I can fucking hear for the first time in ninety minutes. Do you know he screamed the entire fucking ride? Literally every single minute. Uber is gonna fucking ban me from the service.” He tried to run a hand through his hair, got stuck on a tangle, and yanked it out in disgust. “I’m disowning my roommate. No reward is worth this.”

Everything made much more sense. “Ah. Not your cat, then.” Washington palpated the cat’s abdomen lightly; no swelling or tenderness. No trembling.

“Fuck no,” Diogenes said. “My asshole roommate and this cat deserve each other.”

Privately, Washington thought the cat and _this_ man were united in assholery. “And you’ve brought him in because—”

“Asshole one’s out of town and left asshole two behind.” The man paced or twice. “Asshole two hworfed all over the table and the carpet this morning, and asshole one ordered me to take him in.”

“Was the hworfing continuous, or periodic?” Washington asked. He slid the thermometer in to take its temperature.

“All within within twenty minutes or so. Hasn’t happened since.”

“Any blood in the vomit?”

“No, just…you know.” He flapped his hands. “Cat barf. Fish chunks. Haunts your dreams and soaks straight into the carpet forever.”

Washington turned to hide a smile. “Did he start on a new diet?”

“Fuck my fucking ass if I know,” the man said, with feeling.

“Any new houseplants in the house?”

“No, we _definitely_ don’t do houseplants.” He stopped. “No. John’s boyfriend got him one yesterday. Some kind of succulent plant or something. Something about how our house doesn’t have the right vibes. He’s a yoga instructor, it’s fucking horrible.” Diogenes fished his phone out. “I think there was a picture on John’s insta stories. Yeah, here.”

Washington leaned over to see. A selfie of two young, smiling, good-looking men, with the top of what was clearly a silver dollar plant.

“Ah. My best guess is that’s your problem,” Washington said. “That’s silver dollar. It’s toxic, but not fatal. If he chewed that up, he’d be doing some vomiting.” He had let go of the cat’s neck to stroke its back; it purred quietly underneath his hand. “It’s out of his system now, though, and his temperature and vitals are good. Confirm when you get home that the plant’s got tooth marks, but I think you can tell your roommate his cat’s going to be fine.”

Diogenes sagged a little in relief. “Oh thank god. I did not want to have that conversation.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to give away the houseplant, though.”

“Oh, believe fucking me, it’s going straight into the dumpster the moment I get home,” he promised. “I’ll tell John to consider the same with the boyfriend. Just to be safe.”

Washington’s lip twitched again. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Diogenes.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then the man burst into laughter.

Washington blinked at him. He was laughing, open-mouthed, one hand planted on the exam table.

“Pardon?” he said.

“The cat,” Diogenes gasped out. “The _cat’s_ named Diogenes.”

The—Oh.

“Diogenes is a Greek philosopher,” the man managed, wiping his eyes. “An asshole, just like John. And the cat. Ahhh, that’s perfect. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all month. Thank you.”

“You’re…welcome,” Washington said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his own mouth.

The man was standoffish, and frazzled, and rude, and he certainly had a mouth on him; and also the oddest flavor of what could only be called—charming. And despite the show, there had been rather a change in his demeanor after Washington said the cat would be all right.

He nodded at the carrier, whose interior was smeared with tuna. “Do you want to rinse that out, before I put him back in?”

“Oh, Christ. No, just leave it. It was just to try to get him in there. God, was that a nightmare and a hal—”

Washington slipped his hand beneath the cat’s front legs, bundled it into the carrier before it could protest, and latched the door.

“—The fuck sorcery,” the man said.

It was Washington’s turn to let out a short, surprised bark of laughter.

“No, seriously, getting him in there was a fucking forty minute epic battle. My house is never going to be the same. _I’m_ never going to be the same. That shit should earn you hazard pay.” The man gestured with his right arm. Three long, bloody scratches ran the length of his forearm from the elbow.

The smile fell from Washington’s mouth, and he furrowed his brow. “Let me see those, please.” He turned to strip the gloves off and wash his hands.

“It’s fine,” the man said, shoving both hands into his pockets, the scowl reappearing.

Washington sat down at his desk. “I’d rather get them disinfected. Cat scratches are unusually prone to infection.” He gestured expectantly, and slowly, sulkily, the man extended his arm.

Washington took his wrist and turned his arm gently to get a better look at the wounds. The scratches were only deep at the start. A little antibiotic cream would go a long way. “Any allergies to medicines?”

“…No,” the man said.

Washington kept gentle hold of the man’s wrist so that he wouldn’t bolt as he turned and reached one-handed for an antiseptic wipe and a single-use tube of bacitracin. “Just a moment.”

He shifted, laid two fingers over the man’s pulse point to monitor, and pressed the antiseptic wipe lightly to his skin. The man made a soft noise in his throat, and Washington looked up sharply.

“Just…cold,” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” Washington said, taking extra care to be gentle as he cleaned, but he could still see goosebumps raising on the arm he held. “Just a moment, and it’ll feel much better. I promise.”

“S fine.” Another mumble.

Washington followed the antiseptic with the antibiotic cream. “So after all that, I didn’t catch your actual name.”

“Hamilton,” the man said. “Alex.”

“A much better name than Diogenes.”

There was no reply. He looked up. Hamilton’s posture was tense all over, his eyes cast low. Under his fingers he could feel Hamilton’s pulse fairly hammering.

He let go. “All set.” It’d be better served with a dressing, but he had clearly overstepped his bounds.

Hamilton took his arm slowly back.

Washington cleared his throat. “Keep an eye on him for the next day or two,” he said, “and if he exhibits any other behaviors out of the norm—especially lethargy, lack of appetite, or vomiting blood—give me a call, or you can bring him back. I’m the head of the practice, so just ask for me. Dr. Washington. I live upstairs, so I’m here day or night.”

He did not make a habit of letting clients know he lived above the practice. He did not encourage them to call over a cat that was absolutely going to be fine.

And yet.

The man glanced up at him under long eyelashes. Washington blinked. “Thanks,” he said softly. “I, uh. Appreciate it. For my roommate’s sake.”

“Of course,” Washington said automatically, and watched Hamilton heft the carrier—the cat within let out a warning yowl—and stagger out the door.

 

~~~~~

The next time he saw Hamilton, it was nearly eleven p.m. on a nasty November night. Someone had rung the doorbell for the practice six or seven times in a row, and, when Washington failed to arrive three seconds later, proceeded to pounding on the door.

For a moment Washington simply stared. Hamilton was sopping wet in the drenching rain, thin shirt soaked through and rain pouring from the ends of his hair. In his arms was a dog wrapped in a rain jacket.

“Please!” Hamilton was shouting. “He’s been hit by a car, I saw it all happen, I was on my bike and the guy just sped off and he was just lying in the street but he’s breathing, he was, I know he was—”

Washington opened the door wide. “I hear you, son. Bring him in and we’ll get him sorted.”

Hamilton was shivering. He stood in the front room, rain dripping from the ends of his hair and his clothes.

“Bring him through here,” Washington ordered, reaching for his gloves. “Set him down on the exam table. Gentle, that’s good.”

He laid both hands on the dog, a handsome gray and white mutt who looked at him and wagged his tail weakly, dirty and clearly in pain as he was.

“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, checking the dog over. “Stay right there for me, okay. That’s good. You’re all right.”

Scrapes but no deep wounds. No blood or frothing at the mouth. At least one leg in a bad break. There was a faded red collar around his neck, but no tags. Washington checked his vitals. Fainter than he would have liked, but steady.

“Please,” Hamilton said from behind him. “Please, you can save him, right?”

Washington looked over his shoulder. Hamilton’s eyes stood out in his wet face, large and desperate.

“Absolutely,” Washington murmured, reaching for his cabinets. “Absolutely we’re going to save him.”

~~~~~

After the second whimper from the dog Alex fled the exam room and threw himself into pacing the hallways. They were dark and empty and smelled of antiseptic. His heart was still running double-time, the accident still replaying over and over: the car flashing past too close even to him, the yelping in the rainy darkness, the thumping of the wet tail as Alex threw himself off the bicycle and went to investigate. He could not make himself _calm down._

“He’s gonna be fine,” he said out loud to himself. “The doctor said it. Washington said it.” Over and over, less a mantra than a prayer to a god he wasn’t sure particularly cared.

It was just—It had been such a long week and so many people had shown they didn’t care. So much unkindness in the world, such apathy and disdain and it was just a _dog_ , an animal, just—if this asshole in the rainy darkness had ended this particular life Alex would shatter apart, would not be able to pull himself together this time. He wrung his hands as he went.

Pace pace pace. Pace pace pace. Alex turned the corner, aware he was not quite in control and yet unable to pull himself in.

“Mr. Hamilton,” the vet called.

Alex burst in. “Is he—Is—”

“He’s going to be just fine,” Washington said, calm and and steady. He was pulling the gloves off his hands. “He’s got a nice sturdy cast for his leg and some stitches and a shot to make sure he’s not in any pain. We’re going to keep him warm and comfy, with plenty of water nearby, and he’s going to be just fine.”

Alex put an arm out for the wall, then his shoulder. Thank _god_ , thank god. He shut his eyes, trying to make himself _feel_ the news.

When he opened them, Washington was much closer to him, peering down at him with a furrow between his brows. “Are you all right?”

With an effort Alex shoved himself away from the support of the wall.

Washington was still looking at him. “You’re shivering, and those clothes are completely soaked through,” he said. “Mr Hamilton—Alex, right?—come on upstairs. You’ve done good, now we need to get you into some warm dry clothes, too.”

Alex licked his lips. Washington was looking at him over those wire-rim glasses, large eyebrows knitted, warm and solid in his flannel shirt—Alex should not have interrupted him like this, but—Alex should not lean on him, and yet it had been so long, so long, and the week had been so, so awful.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Good,” Washington said, and proffered what appeared to be a large padded pillow. Alex blinked down at it. “Heated pad for your friend. I’m going to carry him up, so I’d appreciate it if you took that up.”

He held the pad in both hands as Washington bent to scoop the dog carefully up. The little dog was very still in his arms, his fur still wet from the rain, a patch of fur at his elbow and his flank shaved away. Alex’s chest stuttered. “Out the door and to your right,” Washington said firmly.

Alex opened the door at the end of the hallway for Washington to step through with the dog, then trailed him up the set of narrow stairs to the flat at the top of the house.

It was old, high rafters with dark brown leather couches and chair and a small kitchen. The rain spattered against a skylight at the far end. A book lay facedown on the chair, as though its reader had hurriedly set it aside when some weirdo hammered on the door downstairs. A large, handsome golden retriever rose creakily to its feet from a bed next to the chair and padded slowly toward them, tail wagging.

“Hey Bess. You’ll make our guests welcome, right?” Washington was striding over to a corner near the refrigerator. “Would you set that down and plug it in, please?” he asked Alex.

Alex scrambled to obey. His hands only shook a little bit. When he was done, Washington set the dog down and carefully arranged his limbs so that the cast stuck out. “There, nice and warm already,” he said.

“Now,” he said, straightening. “I’m going to start some water for coffee or tea. I do have some pairs of clean scrubs if you want to change out of those wet clothes.”

Alex repressed, at the last moment, an instinctual yessir that rose from some depth unbidden. “Okay.”

Washington looked at him a moment longer, then strode away. Alex stood there and watched the little dog’s sides rise and fall.

Something nudged his hand. He looked down to find the golden retriever, looking dolefully up at him with large brown eyes. Dogs and owners that look alike, indeed. He patted its head mechanically, and it promptly leaned its full weight against him.

“Bess,” Washington said reprovingly. He was back, pressing a folded set of green scrubs into Alex’s hands. He pointed. “Bathroom’s over there.”

Alex undressed slowly, shedding the shirt with mud and fur and blood smeared on the front, his wet, freezing jeans. Washington had even included a pair of woolen socks, which he took too long staring at.

When he finally got them on and opened the door, the fragrance of tea filled the flat. Washington was standing at the counter, his dog settled on the kitchen floor, following his movements with her nose between her paws. Steam rose lazily from a teapot on the stove. The little dog was still safe on his pad in the corner.

“Hey,” Washington said, noticing him standing there staring. “Feel better?” Then, following Alex’s gaze to the little dog, he said, “Do you want to keep him company for a while?”

Alex nodded, and sat on the floor next to the dog. Washington resumed puttering at the counter, as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do.

He watched the dog. Washington had covered him lightly with a blanket, which made it easier to see the steady rise and fall of his sides. He had a fine set of whiskers.

“Here,” Washington said, and when he looked up Washington was proffering a mug. He also had a blanket, which he draped around Alex’s shoulders.

Alex took a deep breath. _Thank you_ , he tried to say, but somewhere in between the breath and forcing the first syllable out his throat and nose filled up. The vision of the dog before him swam.

Oh, of all things, on top of this awful day, this awful week, this awful month, why was _kindness_ going to undo him?

For a moment Washington didn’t do anything. Then he felt the thump as Washington lowered himself to the floor next to him.

“Hey,” Washington murmured, pitched low. A hand settled across his shoulder and then squeezed gently. “It’s all right. He’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You did good.”

He dropped his head between his shoulders. _No no no no,_ but it was no use: an embarrassingly loud sob tore out of his mouth.

“Hey,” Washington murmured, and he leaned in just a little, his arm around Alex’s back, and it was just—fuck this, fuck everything that had happened to that little dog and that it had all had to happen to him before he wound up here, safe, protected, warm, not scrabbling for all that he needed—Alex let himself crumble sideways against Washington, and Washington immediately put the other arm around him.

“I’m sorry,” Alex half-sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Washington said, infinitely warm and patient, and he probably had to do this all the time for people losing it over their stupid pets, and Alex wasn’t even strong enough to pull his face out of that flannel shirt, smelling of disinfectant and tea and comfort.

“It’s not fair. It’s not _fair_. It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.” Washington hummed, the sound reverberating through his chest.

“I just—” He couldn’t stop, the words tumbling out, wet and congested. “we’ve been trying to get this bill passed that would just expand legal aid to people who can’t get representation, people who are losing their jobs and houses and _kids_ cause of one bag of weed and the capitol’s not going to pass it, because they’re evil fucks, evil, and then this—” Alex sucked in air, wiping his face. “I don’t even like dogs,” he said, and it came out in a horrible half-sob, half-laugh.

Washington was silent for a few moments. Then he pulled back a little and said:

“You helped someone tonight, okay? You couldn’t do everything you wanted to, but you did help someone. This one piece is going to be okay. All right?”

Tears rolled down Alex’s face. He nodded, silently.

“Good.” He squeezed Alex’s shoulder again, and then he leaned over a little to pull, of all things, a handkerchief out of his pocket.

Alex snorted wetly as he took it. Washington gave him a moment to wipe his face, and then he picked up the forgotten mug and passed it to him.

Sniffling, Alex held it with both hands and took a sip. Something sweet and milky and hot and spicy. He took another one. Held it in his mouth and shut his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” Washington said.

He stayed on the floor, shoulder butted against Alex’s, until Alex scraped himself together enough to stand up.

“I can’t have dogs in my apartment,” he said, too tired even to properly despair.

“I’ll keep him here with me while he heals up,” Washington said. “Bess and I will take good care of him.”

“Will…” Alex cleared his throat. “Can I…”

“You can come see him as often as you like,” Washington said, like it was that simple. The dog would get better and everything would be fine. Alex could come visit him here. Sure. He would just say so, with his deep, dark voice, and it would be so. Hot tea and open arms, like this was some sort of fucking magical oasis in a sea of assholery and indifference. Okay. Alex would come see him as often as he liked.

 

~~~~~

It was worth every single moment of veterinary school to hear Alex’s surprised, delighted laughter the next night when the little dog, awake and in rather a feisty mood, lunged up to lay a sloppy kiss on Alex’s face.

“You silly bastard,” Alex told him, still laughing, as the little tail with its white tip wagged wildly back and forth. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“He remembers you,” George observed.

“Of course he does. You don’t go through that together and not be buds, right, Gabriel?”

“What did you call him?”

“His name’s Gabriel.” Alex wasn’t looking at him.

Apartment rules or not, the dog was obviously going home with him. George kept his mouth firmly shut.

Alex lingered, shouting encouragement as the dog stood up and limped the couple of paces to the litterbox George had set up a few feet away. Alex seemed in much better spirits than the night before, which was pleasant to see, though the circles remained under his eyes.

“You said you were trying to pass a bill,” George prompted, when Alex was settled on the floor with Gabriel’s head on his lap. “Do you work in the government?”

“Nah. A justice nonprofit, and it’s only part-time,” Alex said. “I’m studying law at the university. But I can’t wait that long to try to make the world better, you know? There’s too much to do.”

“Hmm.” George stroked Bess’s flank, and she grumbled happily. “That sounds like interesting work.”

“It is,” Alex agreed, and sketched for George, with words and hands, the current bills they had under advocacy. An impressive list. “But sometimes I consult for John’s org. That one gets local teens involved in politics. Oh, man, that’s a great cause. If they had that when I was a kid…”

“You seem to have made your way there,” George observed, after a moment in which the corners of Alex’s mouth turned down.

Alex glanced up at him, then away. “Yeah, but it took me a long way. There were…a lot of detours along the way.”

George waited, unsure how to read Alex’s twisted mouth, whether he wanted to talk about it or wanted to be left alone. “Maybe a story for another day,” Alex said, finally, and Gabriel nudged him, hungry for more pets.

“Of course,” George said, and hesitated. “You’re not the only one who’s detoured,” he said.

“You weren’t always a vet?”

“No,” George said. He got up. “Story for another day. Time for some tea, I think.”

“The same stuff as yesterday?” Alex said. “That was good. I’ve never had anything like that. And it was just the thing at that exact right moment. Like, went straight in to my soul, you know.” He stopped abruptly.

“Family recipe,” George said, lamely, into the silence.

“Thanks.”

George turned. Alex was looking at his lap, one hand on Gabriel’s head, shoulders hunched.

“For last night.”

George bent to pull out the teakettle so that he had something to do with his hands. “Of course,” he said.

“I might need a little time to pay the bill back,” Alex said.

“What?” George said, turning back to look at him. His shoulders were drawn even further together. “You don’t need to—There’s no bill.”

Alex’s head came sharply up. “What do you mean, there’s no bill?”

George shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“You have to charge!” Alex said, and George could not fathom why he sounded angry, of all things. “No, I don’t,” he said calmly.

Alex leapt to his feet, dislodging Gabriel, and paced back and forth once. “That’s not how it _works!”_ he insisted. “You—you need to charge, I know this is hundreds of dollars, it—”

George watched him, bemused. “Look, you’re a student. I know tuition is expensive—”

The wrong thing to say, apparently. Fire snapped in Alex’s eyes. “I’m not a charity case!”

A thought occurred to George. “Look, one professional to another,” he said, holding up his hands. “A lawyer is a useful friend to have. I’ll be sure to call you up the next time I or the practice have a legal question. Would that work?”

Alex’s fists twitched at his side, and George could literally watch the fight start to drain from him. “That…could work,” he said finally.

George, you old bastard. Thank God he hadn’t fully lost the touch. “Okay,” George said. “A deal, then?”

Alex eyed him, then came over to grasp George’s outstretched hand. They shook. His hand was warm.

“A deal,” Alex repeated.

“Good,” George said, and resumed making tea. He could feel Alex’s eyes on his back.

After a few minutes, Alex picked the thread of conversation back up as though nothing had happened: the other bills he was working on, the governor’s race due to kick off in a few months, his roommate, whom he criticized roundly with an unmistakable undertone of fondness. George sat and listened, one hand rubbing Bess’s belly as they both drank the tea.

When he left, he said, “I’ll be back tomorrow, Gabriel. Unless…?” He glanced up at George from under those long eyelashes.

George fought to keep his face calm even as something about the sight tightened his chest. “It stands, you know. As many times as you want to come.”

 

~~~~~

The next night Alex brought his homework and proceeded to occupy his entire dining table. Piled deep in law coursebooks, Gabriel ensconced happily at his feet with a piece of rawhide, he nonetheless emerged to chatter at George about the case studies he had been assigned this week, their irrelevance to the really important stuff, and the way he’d design the course of study if he was in charge.

George listened, and silenced his phone to hide the texts coming from his ballroom dancing group wondering where he was.

 

~~~~~

On Wednesdays Alex’s last class ended at 11, so he raced through the reading and got a jump start on the next’s, just for good measure.

John was home for once, ostensibly packing for a flight to Nashville later that evening but in reality trying to practice his one-handed handstand in the living room, papers scattered around him. He raised his eyebrows, upside down, as Alex went past. “You’re home early,” he said.

“Yeah. Where’s the damn five-hour energy? I bought an economy pack like two weeks ago.”

“Oh, K.C. might have thrown it out. He practices a clean lifestyle, you know,” John said, bracing one foot against the wall.

“Are you fucking shitting me? What about _my_ lifestyle?” Alex climbed up on top of the countertop to peer in the back of the cabinet.

“He’s got a point, Hams, that crap is gross,” said John. Airily, as though he hadn’t been fucking debating whether Original or Khaos was the best monster energy drink flavor in this very goddamn apartment six months ago.

“It’s perfectly legal, is what it is. You know what isn’t legal? Stealing other people’s property. I don’t want to have to sue your goddamn boyfriend, but—” Alex pushed aside a canister of vanilla-flavored whey protein and discovered the stash. “Aha! That’s the good stuff. You and the bf are getting off scot-free. Ugh, gross, forget I said that.”

There was a crash from the living room as John overbalanced. He appeared in the doorway, rubbing his ass. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah, over to see Gabe.” Alex threw two bottles into his backpack.

“Again?”

“Look, you would understand if you saw him,” Alex said. “He’s got this face, John, you just look at him and—”

“You talkin the dog, or the vet?”

The water bottle slid out of his grip. “What?”

John leaned against the doorway, arms folded, and an expression Alex cared zero percent for plastered across his face. “You said it’s the vet who runs the practice, right? I saw him when I took Diogenes in before.”

“So?” Alex said, shoulders hunching automatically.

“So I’ve seen what he looks like in a lab coat.”

Alex pointed the water bottle at him. “Don’t pull that shit with me. You still owe me for that vet visit in the first place, you know.”

“You going to his house?” John said, unconcerned by the threat. “You know, he wasn’t that friendly to _me_. Polite, sure. But definitely not ‘invite you over to his house at a moment’s notice.’”

“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, asshole, or so help me, I’m dumping that cat of yours out the back door the next time he ralphs on the carpet,” Alex said, hoisting the backpack on his shoulders.

“I’m not discouraging this! To be very clear, I am extremely pro you banging my gorgeous vet,” John said, following Alex to the door.

“You are disgusting. He did me a favor—a massive favor—and I’m not going to repay that by creeping on him,” Alex said.

“I’m sure he’d be willing to give you some more _massive favors,_ ” John said, leering.

“I hope the airline fucking loses your luggage.” Alex slammed the door.

“Hit it for all of us, Hams!” John yelled at him down the stairwell.

Alex fumed for the entire bike ride over to George’s—to the vet’s. Luckily, bike riding in town is perfect for fostering a grudge. “Did you forget how to signal, fuckwad?” he yelled at a blue Civic.

There was a perfectly good reason for him to be visiting, and that was thirty pounds of adorable ragged little dog in a cast that was, now that he was out of danger, hilarious.

It was absolutely in no sense about the vet, no matter how tall he was, no matter how broad his shoulders were or how steady his hands or how comforting his voice was. No matter that he was always wearing the softest-looking sweaters, and that some of them had _patches_ at the elbows, who did that. No matter how good his watch looked on his wrist, or—

Alex groaned aloud and turned sharply left in front of a car that did him the favor of honking so that he could righteously give it the finger.

He was not at all prepared for the vet-that-didn’t-matter to open the door wearing only a t-shirt, which revealed in full glory the biceps Alex had suspected before.

He was even less prepared for the smile that lit his face when he saw Alex. In Alex’s defense, no one on earth could have been prepared for that. The flush hit him fast and hard.

“Alex! Come in!” he said, holding the door wide. “You’re just in time. I was just thinking it’s time to give the little guy a bath.”

“A bath?” Alex repeated, brain clunking as it shifted slowly into second gear. He was still sweating from the bike ride; any flush could be completely and utterly explained.

“Poor guy’s still all full of mud,” George said. “His stitches and cast are well set by now, so we can get him in the tub for a wash if we’re careful.”

“Okay,” Alex said dumbly. “What…do we do?” Gabriel was already at his feet, licking Alex’s hand enthusiastically.

George pointed to the bathroom. “If you can get a bath running—a foot or so of water is fine, just warm to the touch, not too hot—I’ll get a bag to wrap his cast in.”

“Okay.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” George said over his shoulder, giving Alex just enough time to teeter on the edge of a full-body writhe before he finished: “This’ll be much easier with two people.”

“Hah, yeah,” Alex mumbled, and fled to the bathroom, Gabriel clunking along behind him.

George had one of those big clawfoot tubs. Alex fumbled with the knobs, and then sat on the edge of it as the water ran. Gabriel panted happily at his feet. “See, _you_ don’t judge me,” he said to Gabriel, reaching down to scritch his ears.

“Poor Bess,” George said, appearing at the door and causing Alex to jump only slightly guiltily. “She’s hiding. She thinks it’s for her. She hates baths.” He knelt to take Gabriel’s casted paw, wrapping it quickly and efficiently.

The sight of his big hands, careful and deft with the dog, his knees on the tiled floor. Alex blinked. George had said something that needed an answer. “Haha. Yeah,” he said.

George peered up at him over his glasses. “Are you all right?”

“What? Yeah—yeah I’m fine,” Alex said, and George looked at him consideringly.

“You were out in that nasty cold rain the other night. I wouldn’t be surprised. Tell me if you’re feeling off, all right?”

Why had he been born, why did he exist, why why why. “I will,” he promised.

George sealed the packaging job with a pair of rubber bands from his wrist. “There. That should do it. I’ll lift him in, and you grab a couple of those treats, will you? We’ll see how he reacts.”

He scooped Gabriel up and set him down gently in the tub. Gabriel barked when he hit the water, even though it only went up chest-high. George kept his hands on him.

“It’s water, bud,” Alex told him, leaning over to offer him a treat. “Don’t be silly.” Gabriel barked at the treat too, and then ate it. “You are being silly,” he said accusingly.

George laughed. “He’s been an awfully good sport for this whole ordeal, he’s entitled to make a little fuss. Grab that shampoo from the sink, would you? The one in the purple bottle.”

Alex dolloped the shampoo onto his hands, and, with George’s instructions, worked it into a lather on Gabriel’s fur, starting at the neck and moving in gentle circles. “There, see, isn’t that good,” George said soothingly. “See all that gunk that’s coming off? You’re gonna feel like a new dog.”

His habit of addressing the dog like that was…discomfiting, for some reason Alex couldn’t put his finger on. He wished he would stop.

It was true, though; the water was rapidly turning cloudy. Alex hadn’t realized how dirty his fur actually was. George handed him a cup, and he rinsed the dog’s sides carefully off. His white spots were starting to shine.

“Aren’t you handsome,” George murmured, and Alex barely suppressed a full-body shudder.

“I always knew he was,” he said defensively.

George fucking _beamed_ at him. “You sure did. He’s a lucky guy.”

What the fucking fuck was he supposed to say to that? Who _was_ this guy? It was so _fucking_ hot in this bathroom.

Gabriel saved him by trying to wriggle around so that he could lunge at Alex’s face. “No, no, hold still!”

“Better wrap it up,” George said wisely.

“Okay.” Alex dumped more water, sending more rivulets of brown sluicing down his flanks. “There, almost done—just—hold still—”

The cup wasn’t really doing enough; he cupped his hands and brought a wave of water up to cover Gabriel’s flanks. Gabriel swung his head round. As soon as he saw what Alex was doing, he barked and began to splash the water with his two free front feet.

Water splashed over the edge of the tub, onto the floor and bathmat, over George and Alex. “Nonono—Gabriel, no!” Alex said frantically, but he kept going, barking and splashing in a frenzy of joy.

George was faster; he simply leaned over and scooped Gabriel bodily out of the tub. He stood there, water puddled on the floor around him, sodden dog in his arms dripping all down the front of his shirt and yipping happily.

Alex simply stared in horror.

“Alex, would you grab the towel? There’s one hanging on the door,” George said calmly.

Alex fumbled hastily for the towel as George lowered the dog to the floor. As soon as his paws hit the floor, Gabriel shook himself enthusiastically. Alex yelled and lunged forward with the towel, but not before droplets sprayed every surface that hadn’t yet been wet.

Fucking disaster. “Oh, my _god,_ Gabriel,” he said, “what is WRONG with you.” Gabriel’s little face peered happily up at him through the towel as Alex tried to dry him off. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

George laughed. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I needed a laugh.” He reached for the door and let Gabriel escape into the living room.

George was wet. he was very wet, and the wet shirt clung to the lines of his chest and biceps and shoulders and—Alex rolled his head back and stared furiously at the ceiling.

“I—I can clean it up,” he said.

“No need,” George said. He leaned over to pull the plug from the drain. Alex’s traitor eyes slipped over to watch the shirt slide over his back. “It’s always an adventure, first bath for a new dog. And he looks so much better.”

Bess was waiting for them at the bathroom door. “You’re all smiles when you know it’s not for you, huh,” George said to her, and she made a soft dog noise of happiness as he scratched behind her ear. Behind them, Gabriel scrabbled and skidded crazily along the living room floor in one casted foot, shedding water everywhere.

Alex shut his eyes in delicate, pure, full-bodied horror. George and his dog were so _calm_ and _patient_ and _good-natured_ , and all Alex had done from the beginning was bring fucking baskets of crazy into this house and dump them on the nice hardwood floors.

“You’re gonna need more than one legal favor for this, I think,” he said.

George looked up at him. “Really,” he said, “it’s no trouble,” which was a goddamn baldfaced lie. Then he grinned at Alex, a heart-stopping, physical fucking blow to the chest. “I’m pretty sure your hours are going to bill higher than mine pretty soon,” he said.

Alex reeled, tried not to show it. “Only because the system’s fucked,” he said, flapping his hands. “It’s—There’s—the billable system really is for shit, you know, because it totally screws up your incentives. See—”

Safer ground. He settled into the rant, comfortable, familiar, faltered only briefly when he looked up and George’s smile had shifted to something gentler as he watched Alex.

 

~~~~~

Alex was a little later than usual the next night, and George firmly did not allow himself to worry. It was raining again, after all, another awful borderline-sleet November rain, and the buses would probably be running late.

Instead, he made soup. By the time his phone pinged, both dogs were glued to his feet. Even Gabriel had clumped his way over to sit and look hopefully up at him. “Just a minute, both of you, it’s too hot anyway,” he told them.

He went to let Alex in. Alex looked up at him ruefully. “I know,” he said. He was soaked from head to toe again.

“Alex!” George said, dismayed.

Bess was at his feet, and Alex reached down to pat her. Gabriel was stumping his way over. “Buddy!” he said, crouching to open his arms.

“Oh no you don’t,” George said, catching his arm. “My patient is still recovering and he’s not going to catch a cold from someone dripping sleet on him. Go change first.”

“But—” Alex said. His wrist was ice cold.

“Now, Alexander.”

Gabriel waited patiently at the door while Alex changed. When he reemerged in borrowed scrubs once again, the dog yipped happily and Alex replied in kind. He plopped Gabriel up onto his shoulders and brought him over to the kitchen to peer into the pot George was stirring.

“Some for a dog?” he said hopefully.

“Some for a dog, and for its delinquent friend,” George said, turning off the heat.

Alex pouted prettily. “I had to finish a brief.”

George took two bowls out of the cabinet. “It’ll never get finished if you catch pneumonia first.”

“The buses stop running after eight! It’s a public-transit issue, really. The coverage in this city is unbelievable compared to New York. And the bus-stacking, it’s a problem they really need to put a lot more resources into—” He had to put Gabriel down in order to gesticulate with both hands, which George found, once again, unfairly charming. He let the flow of words wash over him as he steered Alex and dog to the table and floor with their respective bowls.

“Oh. Uh. This is really good.” The bowl disappeared fast. He held it out, and George returned to pour him a second.

“What if I’d already had dinner?” Alex said cheekily, holding his bowl out in both hands, Oliver Twist-style.

George frowned at him. “You said yesterday you forgot.”

“I don’t always forget,” he grumbled.

“You seem to have forgotten your raincoat,” George said.

Alex’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I, uh. Threw it out. Stained.”

Right. George had forgotten.

“I’ll borrow from John, I think he has a spare,” Alex said, staring at his spoon.

The thought of Alex biking in the freezing rain in his shirt sleeves caused George an almost violent wave of distress. If he could have bundled Alex up in his own coat, he would have.

Hell, forget the coat, he could just—

He gathered the bowls, and acknowledged that he had a problem.

 

~~~~~

“Yo. Eliza’s gonna need the remarks by Thursday, not Friday,” John said, sticking his nose into Alex’s office. “The governor’s office wanted to move the meeting up, I guess someone in the circle read the op-ed in the Star-Times and made a fuss!”

“Yeah, she told me,” Alex said, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m already halfway through a draft. Didn’t I tell you things would work out?”

“No, you said the world was full of, and I quote, shitkicks too occupied stroking their own cocks 24/7 to give the least tiniest fuck about another human being, and that we were all fucked,” John said, coming in to swing a hip up onto Alex’s desk.

“What? No,” Alex said. “Don’t be so pessimistic. There’s more good than you know in the world, you know.”

John stared at him, with what Alex considered more theatrics than strictly necessary. Alex rolled his eyes. “I mean. There’s still the ratfaced shitfucks. But there’s more than just them.”

John raised an eyebrow, and then he leaned over to examine Alex’s face at close range. “What are you doing, weirdo,” Alex said.

“You look good,” John said slowly, and leaned back. “You been eating more?”

Alex scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess? George makes good soup. Did you know he cooks real food, like, all the time? Like, with vegetables. I literally don’t think I’ve had this many vegetables in a week in my life.”

John remained in place, studying Alex. The silence made Alex twitch. “What?”

“You sound good, too,” John said. “Look…I joked about it, but that guy’s been good for you, Alex. I’m sorry if I gave you shit over it.”

The heat washed down in a sheet across Alex’s face. “Don’t—” he said, shoving his chair back. “He’s not—”

“Oh. Wait, really? You really haven’t—”

“No!” Alex half-yelled. “He doesn’t like me, okay?”

“Are you kidding? He’s been feeding you and listening to you all week. He did all that vet work for free—”

“You don’t _understand,_ ” Alex said. “He’s just a _good person,_ John, that’s just the way he is, he’s—”

“Bud,” John said, gentle, sending Alex’s shoulders shooting up around his ears.

“Just get out of here, I don’t have time for this right now, I have to get this draft together for Eliza.”

“Sorry,” John said, holding his hands up and sliding off Alex’s desk. “I didn’t realize it meant this much to you.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Gabriel,” Alex said, too quickly even to his own ears. “He’s almost healed, and I can’t afford to fuck up his care just because I—” He stopped.

“Right,” John said. He paused in the doorway. “The thing is, though. He sounds like a good guy. From what you’ve said.” When Alex’s shoulders went back up, he said, “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think you can wreck it as easily as you think.”

When he was gone Alex shoved his hands in his pockets, too wound up to sit back down.

John was wrong.

Or maybe he wasn’t. But Alex couldn’t afford to gamble on this one.

It had been ten days and he had managed to keep his hands to himself, thank you very much. He had remained strong in the face of George’s thrice-damned sweaters, George’s exposed neck bent over to pet one of the dogs, George in a wet t-shirt, for fuck’s sake. He was practically superman.

It’s not that he wouldn’t be thrilled if George reached for him. God. George would pull Alex close with that easy confidence—look at him with that intense, focused gaze—hold his hips in place with those strong, gentle hands—God, Alex would—

“Alex, _no_ ,” he hissed aloud to himself in his own office, hot all over.

George had never touched him with even the tiniest hint of flirtation, had never made the slightest comment that Alex could misconstrue. John wasn’t there and he didn’t know, and Alex would chew off his own arm before he screwed any of this up just because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

“Alex yes?” came a feminine voice, sending Alex two feet straight into the air.

“Eliza!” he said. She was looking at him from the door, an impish smile at her lovely face. “Give a guy a warning before you interrupt his extremely important and for-his-own-good resolutions about self-control.”

She plopped into the chair in front of his desk. “Since when are you the evangelist for self-control?”

Alex very calmly and maturely stuck his tongue out at her. “Since the well-being of my dog depends on it.”

“Ah. Not your well-being, someone else’s. That makes more sense,” she said. “What do you mean, though?”

“It’s, uh. A long story,” Alex said.

“I’m dying for something to think about other than this pitch. Let’s get coffee,” Eliza said. “My treat. Besides, this sounds important.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, slowly, reaching for his coat. “I guess it is.”

 

~~~~~

 George blindsided him three days later. Just out of the blue. They’d been watching TV with the dogs, Alex also both working on his con law reading and doing a supremely excellent job at resisting the magnetic pull of George’s soft-looking navy sweater at the other end of the couch. When the show ended, George got up to stretch, and Alex, with truly practiced ease, kept his eyes shunted away from the strip of skin revealed as his shirt rode up.

Instead, Alex stuck his feet into the recently vacated warm spot. Maybe that was what set George off, because he saw George’s eyes drop there, and then he cleared his throat.

“So,” George said.

Alex looked up at him quizzically. “So? You gonna try to get me to drink more of that herbal tea? You can’t fix my entire diet in an hour, you know.”

George coughed. “No, actually,” he said. “A bit more serious conversation to be had.”

Alex sat up straight, heart thumping to sudden life in his chest. “What?”

“So,” George said, and he sat down on the ottoman and folded his fingers together. “Gabriel’s leg and his stitches are looking very good, no complications at all. I’ve reported him as a lost dog, but haven’t had any responses.” He looked at Alex. “There’s a very good shelter over on 16th. I’ve worked with them quite a bit. They’re run by—”

“What?” Alex said, leaping to his feet. “You’re gonna just—just dump him off at a shelter?”

“I can’t keep every stray dog or cat I run across, Alex,” George said. “Much as I’d like to.”

“We’re not talking about some random dog!” Alex said. “We’re talking about _Gabriel!”_ He thrust a hand at the dog, who wagged his tail.

“He’s a great dog, it’s true,” George said. “He’s going to make someone a wonderful companion.”

“But it could be anyone! It could be a dog abuser! They wouldn’t even know that he likes fish best and that he doesn’t like being brushed on his belly and….”

“They screen very well at these places,” George said, clearly trying to be soothing. Alex hated it. “You’re right, though, it’s an awful lot of work, having a dog. It’s not for people who are uncommitted to it.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex said violently.

“He’s a pretty high-energy dog,” George said. “He’s going to need a lot of attention and exercise and stimulation. That’s going to be quite a challenge.”

It felt like his chest was contracting. “Who’d let that get in the way of a dog like Gabe?”

“Then there’s allergy issues, of course, for roommates and loved ones.”

“I’m not allergic and neither is John!” Alex said. “And if he ever gets a boyfriend that is, I’d just move out.”

“There’s of course the issue of your apartment not allowing dogs.”

Alex waved a hand. “John and I are moving in a few months anyway, the rent’s getting too high there.”

“And then you’d have to walk him twice a day,” George said. “Not more than six or seven hours in between. That sounds like a challenge for your schedule.”

“I can do it,” Alex said, mouth twisting into a scowl, hands clenching by his side.

George’s face split into a smile, so wide and so genuine that Alex staggered for a moment, caught completely and absolutely off-guard. “I know you can,” he said.

“…What?”

“Of course he’s yours,” George said. “It was obvious from the start.”

Alex faltered, still struggling for his footing without the fight he was gearing for. “Then why…”

George reached out and laid one large palm on his shoulder, thumb lodged against Alex’s collarbone. “Had to wait til it was to you too.” His face was still radiating that absolute, beatific warmth. Alex could hardly bear to look at it, could not rip his eyes away from it. “You’re going to be wonderful for each other.”

Salt surged at the back of Alex’s throat. “Really?” he managed.

“Of course,” George said. “You can take him home anytime you want. You already know how to take care of him.”

Alex swallowed, trying to force back the tidal wave of confusing emotions rising in his chest. Gabriel was his dog, was coming home with him, they would not have to be parted, and that also meant— “But—”

George looked at him over the tops of his glasses. “But?”

“So I won’t see you anymore?” he blurted.

“Well, you’ll need to bring him back here so I can take his cast off,” George said.

“But—” Alex gestured around him, at the dogs, the couch, the TV, the stupid addictive herbal tea. “This—”

George hesitated visibly, emotions flickering across his face, and Alex’s stomach dropped.

“None of my patients are unwelcome here,” he began.

“But you don’t want me hanging around your apartment all the damn time, either,” Alex finished.

George’s gaze, usually so direct, could not be found; he wouldn’t look at Alex no matter how hard Alex stared. “It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed the company,” he said, slowly, to the side table.

“Then why?” Alex said, not even sure what he was pressing for—to continue spending evenings on George’s couch wishing he was in his bed instead? But the thought of being so far from George’s face and bright, intelligent dark eyes and reasoned, comforting voice was worse, easy, that wasn’t even a decision.

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” George still wouldn’t look at him. This was torture, actual, legal torture.

“Did I do something? Cause if I’ve—I know I can be—” The flood poured out of him, panicked, annoyingly incoherent. “If I’ve made you uncomfortable at all, I’m really sorry, it’s just—it’s—a lot—but I promise i can keep things not weird, I—”

“What’s a lot?” George said, almost sharply. Now he was looking at Alex.

Alex’s hands fluttered. “You know. You. You’re very—”

George took two steps closer, bringing him so close into Alex’s space that he had to tilt his head up again, and the urge to touch surged in him. He shut his eyes tightly and swallowed it down. “—Tall.”

“Tall,” George repeated, and a chorus of Alex’s fantasies screamed at the sound, gentle and deep and intent in a way that hadn’t yet been directed at him. He kept his eyes shut.

“Yes. And competent.”

He felt the puff of air as George laughed, short, surprised. “Competent.”

“Yes. You’re very good with the—” he gestured towards the direction where the animals had been before he closed his eyes. “—and it’s hard to watch. You’re so good to them. And you’ve been nothing but kind to me, even though I swore a storm at you and banged on your door in the middle of the night.”

“Alex,” George began, but Alex rushed on. It was easier with his eyes closed. “I know I’ve brought nothing but trouble and I keep turning up uninvited—”

“You’re not uninvited,” George said firmly.

“And you’re so kind to them, too,” Alex said; he could not be stopped. “The animals. It’s hard to watch. You’re so good to them. And your voice, with them, it’s—”

“Alex, look at me,” George said, with such a layer of command beneath it that Alex did open his eyes.

George was looking so intently at him that Alex sucked in a sharp, painful breath.

“You haven’t made me uncomfortable,” George said. “I was afraid I was the one who…”

He squared his shoulders, and it was such an uncharacteristically nervous gesture that—

Was—

“I don’t regret a moment of these last two weeks,” George said. “I was glad to help Gabriel, and I was glad to help you. Truth be told, I wanted to have this conversation with you because I felt that I couldn’t—that I wasn’t being fully professional with you. I’ve truly enjoyed having you here.” He took a deep breath. “I thought—too much.”

Currents were beginning to sing under Alex’s skin.

Because,” George said, and at this point he reached out and took both of Alex’s hands, very gently, “you see, you’re very eloquent.”

Alex blinked up at him, those dark eyes warmer than he had ever seen them, eyebrows drawn in concentration. “You feel things very deeply, and it drives you so intensely. Anything you do, you do it with everything you have. And you’re beautiful, and so smart, and you gesture when you get excited.” George looked down, running a large thumb gently over his left hand.

Alex’s mouth was gaping. He shut it with an effort, swallowed.

_Take it, take it, take it!_

_But—_

“Alex,” George said. “Do you—”

“I’ve been thinking about it since the first time I walked into this clinic,” Alex said. He put his chin up and looked at George from under his lashes. “But the thing is, I’m not for people who are uncommitted to it. Because, you see, I’m pretty high-energy.”

George stared at him, lips parting.

Alex continued, putting both hands up to tug lightly at the collar beneath George’s sweater. “I need a lot of attention. And exercise, and…stimulation.”

“Alex,” George said, half-exasperated, but the ragged edge to it sent an answering thrill through Alex’s entire body.

He took both lapels of George’s collar and looked at him. “But I’m very rewarding.”

“I,” George said, shutting his eyes briefly and taking a breath. “I don’t date my clients.”

“I will get a _new vet for Gabriel,_ ” Alex said instantly. “Jesus, are you going to kiss me or what?”

And George slid a hand around to the back of his neck and kissed him and oh god,  _George_ was kissing him, had the other arm wrapped around his back and Alex could still not believe his good luck, but he wasn’t about to let that get in the way of anything. He reached up to finally, _finally_ lay his palms on that broad chest underneath the navy sweater, tilted his head back to allow George unfettered access to his mouth.

“Are you sure?” George breathed into his neck—though the question belied how tight George was holding him against him.

Heat surged in Alex’s face. “Listen,” he managed, shuddering at the rasp of George’s cheek against his skin, “I haven’t spent this entire week thinking about your sweaters and your eyes and your goddamn hands to—” He whimpered as George’s hand slid immediately into his hair at the nape of his neck. “Oh—”

George pulled back a little, so that Alex could drink in his plush, half-open mouth, the slightly drunk look in his eyes. “Then,” he said, “stay. Please.”

 

~~~~~

It was snowing, November sleet finally turned to proper December snowflakes, though scant ones. Bess perked up at the sight, tail wagging as they made their way towards 16th Street. George let her linger on all the new smells, certain that Alex was already running late.

He was not disappointed; the panicked text came when they were about three-quarters of the way there. George turned and made an extra loop around the block, and when he turned the corner it was just in time to catch a glimpse of Alex and Gabriel clattering down the back fire escape in a whirlwind of coats and bag and leash, Alex’s voice trailing them in the crisp cold air, Gabriel’s answer in a happy yip.

It was impossible to stop the smile curling the corners of his mouth, slow, inevitable as the sun setting beneath the clouds to the west. He considered, and discarded, the idea of making Alex wait in turn. He and Bess came around the corner as Alex and Gabriel tumbled out the front door.

“George!” Alex said, cheeks reddened prettily, and he gave into the almost painfully swelling affection in his chest and swept an arm around Alex’s waist to catch him for a kiss, far closer to public indecency than he would normally have countenanced.

Alex gaped up at him after he pulled away, long enough that he had to follow it up with “Stop looking so smug, you massive jerk,” but he was smiling, a pleased flush that George liked enormously on him.

George bent to pat Gabriel, and stepped out of the loops of leash he had wound bouncing around both of them. “He looks like he’s got his full range of motion back.”

“All four legs available to be at one hundred percent strength asshole,” Alex said. “Probably because I have a great vet.” His hands slid beneath George’s peacoat, tugging George back to him.

“He must be good,” George agreed.

“He’s _very_ good,” Alex purred. “On  _several_ fronts.”

George rolled his eyes, smiling, tucked a trailing corner of Alex’s scarf into his coat and a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you ready to go?” he said. “I’ve got hot chocolate at home.”

“Then take me home,” Alex said.

**Author's Note:**

> in the course of writing this fic, i realized that literally 100% of all wham i have written involves gw warming alex up. look,,,,,,,,I live in a cold climate full of repressed people. this is how we express affection. don’t….don’t judge me


End file.
